Chapter 2 – One Minor Overreaction

Sakura started pacing, and her hair came alive.

The long pink strands lifted from her shoulders, writhing like a nest of snakes. A faint, rosy light pulsed from them, casting weird shadows across the room. It was her signature ability, a living weapon tied directly to her emotions. Right now, her emotions were screaming. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides as she wore a path in the tatami mat.

I leaned back on my hands, trying to project a vibe of total chill.

“Look, Sakura, just calm down. It’s a broken sword. It’s junk. They’ll probably just throw it away.”

She stopped dead. The frantic energy in the room froze for a single, terrifying second. Her head snapped toward me, her pink eyes glowing with an intensity that could burn holes in steel. The soft light from her hair flared into a threatening aura.

“They wouldn’t dare.”

Her voice was a low, dangerous whisper that promised swift and terrible vengeance.

“They would never treat a blade forged by the Master’s own hands like a piece of common trash.”

Okay. Note to self. That was the absolute worst thing I could have possibly said. Her power spiked again, the air growing thick and heavy. A stray tendril of hair lashed out and cracked against a wooden support pillar, leaving a deep gouge. This was getting out of hand.

I stood up, closing the distance between us in two quick strides. Words weren’t working. It was time for a different approach.

“Just calm down.”

I wrapped my arms around her in a clumsy, awkward hug. My only goal was to physically restrain her before she demolished my room. It felt like trying to hug a high-voltage transformer. Her whole body was rigid with fury. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, all the tension just… vanished. Her shoulders slumped. The light in her hair dimmed to a soft blush. She leaned into the hug, her face pressing against my chest.

“Master… not here. Not now.”

She mumbled the words into my shirt. I felt a wave of heat radiate from her face.

What?

I looked down and saw that her cheeks were bright red. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was trembling, but not from anger anymore. What in the world was she thinking? My brain screeched to a halt, trying to process this sudden shift from world-ending crisis to… whatever this was. This was not part of the plan.

I immediately let her go and took a full step back, holding my hands up like I was surrendering.

“Sakura, it’s a broken sword. It was an unfinished piece of junk. It’s fine.”

She shook her head, clearing her throat and avoiding my eyes. She was still blushing.

“Master, you don’t understand. The ambient energy in anything you create is immense. If that sword falls into the wrong hands, a sorcerer or a rival nation could use it to track our location. Or worse, they could try to reverse-engineer its properties. It could lead them straight to you.”

She finally looked at me, her expression a mix of embarrassment and grave seriousness.

“I know it seems like I’m overreacting, but the world below is not like our mountain. It’s full of greedy, dangerous people.”

I sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go. There was no chilling her out.

“But what if a kid just finds it and uses it to chop wood? What if it just rusts away in a landfill?”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

We stood there in silence for a moment. She had an answer for everything. Her conviction was absolute. As much as I hated the drama, a tiny part of me knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. It was better to be safe than to have an army show up at my doorstep because I was too lazy to properly dispose of my trash.

“It won’t happen. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, Master. I don’t trust them.”

She took a deep, steadying breath, her business-like demeanor returning. The blush was gone, replaced by steely resolve.

“I’ll assemble a retrieval team. A small, covert unit. They’ll intercept the shipment before it reaches the capital.”

I just wanted this conversation to be over so I could go back to staring at the clouds.

“If that makes you feel better, then go for it.”

She gave a sharp, determined nod, spun on her heel, and marched out of the room, leaving me alone in the sudden silence.

Somewhere on this mountain, some poor kid’s peaceful afternoon was about to be completely ruined.

The clang of steel on steel was the only song I needed.

I stood in the center of Training Ground Four, my wooden bokken moving in a blur. Sweat dripped from my brow, but I ignored it. My world was the hiss of the blade cutting through the air, the burn in my muscles, the solid impact against my sparring partner’s block. This was life on the Upper World. It was peaceful. It was perfect. Our Great Master, Ise Hiroshi, had built this sanctuary for us from nothing.

He was the architect of our world, the source of all our teachings. He was a living god.

A piercing shriek suddenly ripped through the air, shattering the mountain’s tranquility.

The Code Red alarm.

Every disciple in the training ground froze mid-swing. Dozens of us stood like statues, our heads turned toward the main dojo on the highest peak. The alarm was a sacred terror, a sound reserved for only the most dire threats to our home, to our Master. It had not been rung in my lifetime.

“Reiji!”

The voice belonged to my own master, Siegfried. He stood at the edge of the training ground, his massive frame silhouetted against the sky. A thin, white scar ran across his closed eyelids, a permanent reminder of the life he’d left behind. He was once a hero down below, betrayed by the very people he swore to protect. They took his sight and left him for dead. The Great Master found him, saved him, and gave him a new purpose here.

I didn’t hesitate. I bowed to my sparring partner, dropped my bokken, and sprinted across the grounds. I skidded to a halt before my master, my heart hammering in my chest.

He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and grounding.

“I have a mission for you. A direct order from Disciple Sakura.”

His words were low and serious. An order from Sakura was as good as an order from the Great Master himself. This was real.

“A master-forged blade has been lost. It was accidentally shipped with a crate of common exports and is now heading for the underworld.”

He spat the last word like a curse. His hatred for the world below was a living thing, a cold fire that never went out. It was the source of his strength and his pain. That world was a place of liars and traitors. It was a place that did not deserve a gift from our Master.

“Your mission is to lead a small team, intercept that shipment, and retrieve the blade. You will use any means necessary, but you will not fail. Do not let those vipers get their hands on it.”

I looked up at my master, my mind reeling. Me. This mission was being entrusted to me. The honor was so immense it was terrifying. It was a chance to serve the Great Master and to strike back at the world that had wronged my own master so deeply.

I slammed my fist to my chest in a sharp salute, my voice clear and steady.

“I understand.”

My mission was clear.

I would not fail.